


The End Is Here

by CatKing_Catkin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Technology, Aliens, Developing Relationship, Dubious Morality, Enemies to Friends, Established Relationship, Female Character of Color, Fights, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Government Experimentation, Mad Scientists, Moral Ambiguity, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Original Female Character, Period-Typical Racism, Possession, Secret Identity, Social Commentary, Superheroes, Supervillains, Technobabble, Technopathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-02 18:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8679367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKing_Catkin/pseuds/CatKing_Catkin
Summary: This is a story of a super-villain and her good intentions. This is a story of a superhero and her marching orders. This is the story of the first two to evolve beyond the boundaries of the mundane. Above all, it is a telling of the connections for good and ill that they find and forge between one another.





	1. A Perfectly Ordinary Bus Ride

It was a fascinating thing, playing God.

Of course, for this little metropolis, this tiny little city by the sea, she didn’t have to play. She knew all. She saw all. She did not give and take life as she saw fit, because she was not cruel and she honestly did not care, but she could have if she had wanted to. She was unstoppable. She could not be barred from anything, and there were no secrets from her.

She held the bustling metropolis of Copper Harbor in the palm of her hand, and took whatever she pleased from it. Mostly, what she pleased to take was money, and she left nothing but empty bank accounts and panicked cries behind. She took good names, and left nothing but scandal and memories of better days. She took hope, and left nothing but tears. But she also took care; better to leave something there for her to take tomorrow, rather than taking all at once and leaving the city broken and barren.

After all, she was not cruel. She was God, in everything but name.

Her name, fittingly enough, was Legion.

For Legion, the intangible streams of code and information that passed in the blink of an eye from computer to computer was her domain in all the meanings of the word.

*  *  *

Her name was Bethany Hargrove.

She was a receptionist for a moderately successful law firm. She answered phones, and she smiled at visitors, and came to work every day in bright, cheerful blouses and comfortable pants and sensible shoes. She was prompt and punctual and she never ever wrote down a phone number or a name incorrectly.

She was of Native American descent, pretty enough to look at, and a generally pleasant person on the surface. Furthermore, she was excellent at her job. Yet it was generally agreed by her coworkers behind Bethany’s back that she was more than a little unsettling. She arrived on time for work every day. She never complained about her job. She made small talk in the break room and was always happy to share her healthy home lunches with unlucky coworkers.

Nevertheless, it was agreed by all her colleagues that Bethany was a little unsettling. Her perpetual, pleasant smile never reached her eyes, and she was always out the door the second her shift ended. The woman clearly hated her job, even if she never complained. Even if she never said anything, everyone knew it. A few had wondered what her secret was - there was never any discernible sign of it left on her desk. 

That was the worst of it, when all was said and done. No one really knew anything about her. Bethany had worked for the moderately successful law firm for two years, always performing well, never writing down a wrong phone number, always bringing in homemade lunches that she was happy to share. She ate in the break room and laughed at the workplace humor. But when she walked briskly out the door at the end of her shift, then that was it. She virtually vanished, leaving no hints behind at her desk or in her words as to how she might be found again.

As far as the anyone else was concerned, Bethany lived in a low-rent apartment on the fifth floor of a tenement building. That was where she took her mail and got the newspaper every morning. The clerk of the tenement building would happily attest that Bethany always came for her mail every day, promptly at six in the morning. Many of the regulars on Bethany’s city bus route had grown used to the sight of her, sitting primly on the bench and reading the paper while she waited for the 7:08 bus to take her in to work.

Newspapers had largely fallen out of style since the turn of the twenty first century, but even that outdated mode of media reporting had found new life in the last couple of years, especially in the bustling metropolis of Astana. After all, there was always news to be found as of late thanks to the efforts of two very different people.

Today, like most days, those two very different people graced the front page together. The headline emblazoned across the top under the name of the paper boldly proclaimed itself, inviting its few remaining patrons to hear its story. _Who Can Save Us?_

Beneath the headline were two side by side pictures, each showing one of the two very different people. One showed a girl. There was not much else that could be determined about her features because of the costume she wore. It was an impossibly bright, impossibly gaudy costume that covered the girl from head to toe. From the bandanna that kept her short black hair in place to her high, sturdy boots, the only thing that could be seen of the girl herself was a bit of her face. Most of the rest of her face was concealed by a bright blue mask emblazoned with two stars around the holes for her eyes. The rest of her costume was done up in red and white stripes, with strategically placed patches of blue imprinted with white stars. The overall effect was bright and striking, even in the faded newspaper color. Fittingly enough, the name beneath the picture read “The Patriot”.

The second picture showed a woman. She might have been older than the girl in the other picture, but it was hard to tell. Much like The Patriot, little else could be seen of her due to the costume she wore. Unlike her counterpart, the woman’s costume was dark. Most of it was colored a rich, deep purple. But her hands were covered by black gloves, her feet by black boots. Most of her face was concealed by a black domino mask. A cape was affixed to the shoulders of the costume, billowing out dramatically behind her in the wind as she stared menacingly at the camera lens. The name beneath her picture read simply “Legion”.

The article began with little preamble. After all, there was virtually no one in the nation now, let alone the city, who didn’t know of these two. Bethany certainly knew them well. The Patriot was patriotic, law abiding, and dedicated to all things good. She was the Golden Age of comics superhero made flesh, fighting for truth and justice and the American Way, whatever that meant anymore. Legion was menacing, shadowy, silent, an enemy in the classic sense of the word. She had no superpowers, certainly none to match those of The Patriot, and survived by using gadgets and gizmos that would have changed American society had anyone ever managed to get their hands on one. 

What The Patriot was to the ideal of the superhero, Legion was to the hidden fears of the supervillain. She stole money and art, took the precious treasures of society for herself and only herself. No one knew how, not even The Patriot or her grim government handlers. All anyone knew was what they saw when Legion came out after dark. She did, on a regular basis – never to commit her crimes, no one ever knew how Legion committed her terrible crimes, but only to do battle. And the only one she ever did battle with was the girl in the American flag costume.

They were epic battles. The villain ran and the heroine chased. Legion used her gadgets, but her very best never did more than slow the superhero down. The Patriot punched and kicked, but although she had the strength to lift an eighteen wheeler in one hand, she could never use it. Collateral damage was not an option, and perhaps the one mercy of their eternal game was that Legion seemed to basically share the sentiment. The superhero could be as fast as a speeding bullet, she was tougher than a moving Mac Truck, and no matter where Legion ran The Patriot could always find her with her five senses enhanced impossibly beyond the human norm. They fought, and the entire city of Astana was their battlefield. As the newspaper frankly reported that morning, the night before had marked their forty first battle in the last two years. 

It was after the fifteenth that the sensationalism had died down, somewhat. Now Legion and The Patriot were more or less a fixture in everyone’s lives. Those brave souls who remained in Astana had all but adopted them as mascots. It was a part of everyday life, now. If only The Patriot would stop taking chunks out of roofs and streets, if only Legion would stop stealing tens of thousands of dollars at a time whenever the mood took her, life might actually have been quite pleasant. 

Bethany took the newspaper onto the bus with her when it arrived, the better to continue reading. She wouldn’t need it long; Legion and The Patriot were always front page news. Today’s front page article dutifully reported the forty first battle of the night before. Bethany dutifully read the article top to bottom. Most of the glitz and glamour had worn off a long time ago, but that still didn’t change the fact that Legion and The Patriot were still the most interesting thing to happen to Astana in a very long time. As a receptionist for a moderately successful law firm, she knew that she’d never get much closer to real fame and infamy. 

She was honestly fans of the two, although she didn’t think she’d ever be able to explain why.

Even so, the notice at the very end of the article made her sigh and roll her eyes. She read it anyway, because Bethany liked to stay informed, but once she had she folded it up with a good deal less care than she normally treated newspapers and dropped it on the seat beside her. She could have read the rest of the newspaper to pass the time on the way to work, but she didn’t. The notice at the very end of the article had made her bitter. 

Eventually, at 7:42, the bus pulled up at the stop two blocks away from the moderately successful law firm where Bethany worked as a receptionist. She disembarked, together with a few other bleary eyed commuters, but soon split off to go her own way. She was the only one to work at this particular company on the entire bus route. Bethany let herself feel just a little bit proud of that fact. She’d learned a long time ago that you took your superiority where you could get it. After all, no matter how much they might protest to the contrary, people thrived off of feeling superior to other people.

She walked in and went immediately to her desk. She settled her bag down behind it, along with her healthy home lunch which would only have to sit there until her lunch break. She settled down into her worn leather chair and listened to the sound of the air being expelled under her weight. 

Another day of piercing, aching, agonizing normalcy for Bethany Hargrove finally began.


	2. All I Want For Christmas

She answered phones. She smiled at guests and dutifully checked their appointments and informed the ever present few that, yes, they did need to arrange a meeting beforehand. She made phone calls and took phone calls and wrote down names and phone numbers, always correctly, never missing a single number or letter. She dealt with the typical amount of office racism and awkward attempts to show solidarity from visitors who never had.

There was one bright moment in Bethany’s day, and it arrived in the form of a wailing five year old girl and her bickering parents. 

The parents was valiantly holding it together, not actively bickering, but the moderately successful law firm was quite popular and bustling, especially at this time of day. As a result, everyone currently sitting patiently in the waiting room couldn’t help but notice that their daughter was wailing and the parents clearly hated each other too much to effectively do anything about it. The father stepped up to the counter as the mother searched for a seat where the child could be safely left. Bethany looked up and smiled blandly at him. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Ah, yes,” said the father, looking nervously around the waiting room. “Reid. Um, it’s Ben and Sara Reid. Divorce hearing, eleven o’clock.”

Bethany dutifully checked her register. Wonder of wonders, there was an appointment for a divorce hearing at eleven o’clock, made by one Sara Reid. Someone had actually arrived on time today. Well, they’d arrived fifteen minutes early, but as far as Bethany was concerned that was about as on time as it was possible to be. 

“I’m afraid that your lawyer is still wrapping up his last meeting,” she said, looking back up at Ben Reid. “If you’ll just take a seat, he shouldn’t be much longer.”

Ben nodded, looking harassed and then looking around to see where his family had gone. Once he laid eyes on them and apparently verified that he hadn’t been left to the wolves, he actually brushed past them to walk back outside. She recognized the itching need for a smoke break when she saw it. Sara’s mouth drew into a thin, tight line, but she said nothing. Bethany recognized an old, ground-in argument when she saw it simmering. 

Realizing that she was no longer the center of attention and that her parents were yet again wrapped up in their own problems, Amy was making a half hearted attempt to stop crying. Sniffling and rubbing at her eyes, she followed where she was led by her mother in search of a seat. As she passed by Bethany’s desk, Bethany saw what the little girl was clutching so desperately in one hand. It was a folded newspaper article. More specifically, it was a folded newspaper article on which could just be made out an advertisement. 

Bethany raised her eyebrows, no longer bored for the first time that day. The only free seats left were relatively near her desk – nobody liked sitting next to her, if they could avoid it. Sara sat Amy down in one of those seats, and then drifted towards a coffee table to begin that most timeless of dances, the search for a magazine that was even remotely interesting. She was unlikely to have any luck. There had been an issue of Real Life Harbor that was only a week old, but Bethany currently had it open beside her register, to yet another interview by Clyde Ross. Personally, Bethany thought she was doing the world a favor keeping it out of the public eye just for that. She didn’t like Clyde Ross, and she was in a position to know.

Unfortunately, that did leave poor Amy with no viable means of distraction. Then again, poor Amy had been doomed for boredom from the moment she walked in the door. She still had her newspaper, of course, with the article that she continued to stare at with longing. But it didn’t seem to be causing her much relief, only additional anguish. 

So Bethany told herself that it was as much mercy as curiosity that led her to lean over towards the girl and ask: “Do you mind if I see that?” 

Amy looked up at her, clearly startled to be spoken to, and clutched the newspaper closer to her chest for a moment. Yet Bethany could see the moment that the girl emerged from her own thoughts and back into the real world. Still sniffling a little, she nevertheless passed the paper over. “’kay.” 

Bethany smoothed the paper out on her desk, and was not remotely surprised to see the very same advertisement that had caused her so much displeasure this morning. It seemed rather less objectionable in this current context, however, even she had to admit that.

“My, my,” she mused aloud. “A Patriot action figure. I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“She looks really cool,” Amy whispered back, as if sharing some sacred secret. “She’s, she’s got a cape, and you can move her arms and legs, and even brush her hair.” 

“But what with one thing and another, I suppose action figures haven’t been on the agenda, have they?”

Amy darted a glance at her mother, at her father outside, and shook her head. 

“What about the Legion action figure? I noticed they released one of those as well.”

The girl frowned, even sticking out her tongue for a moment. “No! She’s the bad guy!”

Bethany smiled and nodded in approval. “Yes, she is. Very good. Well.” Prim and proper, she folded up the newspaper with much more care and passed it back to the girl. “If I were in your position, I would emphasize what a great model Patriot is for little girls in this day and age. Personally, I never thought I’d live to see the day that we had our very own superhero, but I’m so glad we do. And one who’s so forthright about preaching all the right things - truth, justice, the American way, never giving up. Why, I bet we have a lot fewer little girls growing up with unhealthy ideas, with the Patriot taking center stage. No more saying they’d rather lose an arm than be fat.”

Amy went pale. “I need my arms.”

“Of course you do, dear.” She didn’t even sound sarcastic when she called the little girl that. How strange, mused Bethany in the back of her mind, feeling for a moment as though all of this were unfolding with a stranger. But then the moment passed, broken by the sound of a door opening. She looked up to see two men standing in the doorway, one shaking the hand of the other. She remembered that the one leaving had most certainly not arrived on time for his appointment, and that was why the one staying - who just so happened to be the Reid’s lawyer - was late for his next meeting. So Bethany kept the visitor waiting just another deliberate minute, as she added to the girl: “But, I suppose there is a time and a place for everything. Your parents do obviously have a great deal on their mind. But I know they love you just the same.”

It was the right thing to say in this sort of circumstance, she knew. That made it faintly disappointing when the girl frowned, and let out a huff of air that fluttered her bangs. “I know,” she said, but didn’t sound as though she was sure she did. There was no time for further conversation, however. Sara had been spared any longer at her futile quest by the arrival of the meeting, and had called Ben in from outside. The two of them together were beckoning and calling Amy over. With another sigh, Amy got up and went. Though she looked back at Bethany and darted a smile at the receptionist before she did. The one that Legion returned was significantly less cold than the one she offered the latecomer from earlier.

Then the door closed behind the family, and all was normal again. With a slight shrug, Bethany turned away from the door, back to her desk, and worked as diligently as the most diligent of receptionists ever could for the rest of the day. Nothing else very interesting happened. She wished she could say she was surprised. 

At the end of the day – 5:08 sharp, just enough time to tidy up her desk and look especially conscientious to the her bosses while doing so – Bethany walked out the front doors of the moderately successful law firm with her head held high and did not look back. She reached the bus stop at 5:15, thirty seconds before the bus did, and found herself distracted enough to finish reading through the paper from this morning.

It was important to stay informed, after all, even of those developments as patently ridiculous and insulting as the new Patriot action figure. Even that could have its uses – she’d realized as much while making up an excuse to talk to Ben and Amy. 

The paper lasted her all the way to the low rent apartment building where Bethany kept an apartment on the fifth floor. She folded the paper up and left it neatly on her seat. Then she exited the bus, strode to her building and began the long climb up. The building did have an elevator. Bethany had never trusted it. Besides, a five story climb wasn’t terribly hard as long as you took enough exercise in other areas. 

The sound of the key turning in the lock echoed slightly in the dingy, empty hallway, and was quite the satisfying sound to her. Bethany opened the door, bent down to pick up the mail that had piled up just inside under the mail slot, and stepped inside the apartment. 

The one bedroom apartment was dusty, sparse, and gave every impression that no one had lived there in a very long time. This would be a very accurate impression – after all, Bethany did not live there. But the place where she really did live would attract far too much attention and besides, she generally only had to bring curious coworkers by for coffee here just the once and they never asked to come back. It was a system that had worked for her for a very long time.

Shuffling the mail in her hands, humming absently to herself, Bethany opened the door to the hall closet and removed the thick leather harness hanging on the lonely metal hanger inside. She carried it into the combination living room/kitchenette, not bothering to turn on the lights because the window let in plenty of light and besides, all the light bulbs had burnt out two years ago. She stuffed the mail into the pocket of her stylish gray coat, buttoned it up tightly so as to create as little drag as possible, and then began the long, arduous process of strapping herself into the harness. It was always an arduous process. She was much too big for this harness, but asking for a new one to be built would be inconvenient to her and unfair to its inventor. 

Rationally, she knew that the reason for the harness being as uncomfortable as it was was due to the number of buttons, knobs, dials, and gauges that looped and clung to the worn leather. Even so, Bethany could never suppress a self conscious twinge as she fastened the last loop over her middle and felt it digging into the bulge of her stomach. She had always been built a little thicker than most. Fashionable blouses in pastel colors and pencil skirts could do a great deal to hide that from other people, but not from this harness that she needed so much. 

Shaking her head to chase such weak thoughts away, Bethany moved on to the much less arduous process of setting her destination. She could do this bit in her sleep, and sometimes it felt as though she had. A minute or two passes, during which the only sounds in the apartment was the squeak of old metal, the whir of spinning gears, the hisses of the dials firing into life, and her own sigh of frustration. Then the familiar flash of light filled her vision and the familiar feeling of bone chilling cold seeped into her body as it broke apart into its innumerable component atoms and was pulled along to her chosen destination like a very fast moth to a very large flame.


	3. Dark Side of the Moon

After a few seconds of silence and cold, sound and heat and life returned with the force and insistence of a boisterous parade. Bethany ignored it, let it roll over her, and focused on letting herself become centered again. She took several deep, soothing breaths, breaths which turned into a sharp gasp when a familiar voice spoke.

“Oh, god. Oh god oh god oh god. Please tell me you didn’t use the matter translocator to get here!”

She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was the face of the man who owned that voice. It was a nervous sort of face, with messy black hair and big brown eyes. Kalvin Munster had a boyish sort of face. Here and now, as he stared at Bethany with those big brown eyes wide in fear, running a distracted hand through his black hair with his mouth tightening nervously, he looked almost like a little worried angel. 

“And just how else do you propose that I could have arrived spontaneously in your laboratory without opening the front door?” Bethany asked calmly, struggling her way out of the bulky harness. Kalvin hurried to help her. 

“Well, I guess no way. I mean, appearing spontaneously without having to bother with the door codes is part of the reason I designed it.” With a strength you wouldn’t have guessed he had, if you didn’t know him as well as Bethany did, Kalvin hefted the harness in both hands and settled it carefully on its designated stand. “It’s just, I was running some extra tests. You know, on the B-Bot? Just to see if there was anything I could do to cut down on the weight, or the size. And I just had it translocate the length of the building and, well…”

“Something horrible happened?” Bethany finished, massaging her shoulders. 

“It had a seizure,” admitted Kalvin, shamefaced. “All the vital switches tripped. I can’t think what could have happened. I mean, I tested it on the B-Bot plenty of times before, and nothing happened then.”

“Hm. That is strange,” said Bethany, still without the faintest hint of the deep-seated concern being shown by Kalvin. “Would you mind showing me?”

Kalvin gulped. Bethany didn’t know why, or tried not to think of how she might. Normally, Kalvin was fun. Kalvin was one of the only people on Earth, or even in Astana, that she could honestly say she felt real affection for. She enjoyed his company and she enjoyed speaking with him, even when he went on his little gadgeteer rants. That was most of why she’d been perfectly happy to foot his bill for the last two years. He built gadgets and gizmos that could have changed the world, but the world would never get the chance to see them if Bethany had anything to say about it. After all, if it ever did then the world would take his creations away and make them famous and shove him away with nothing to show for his blood and his sweat and his tears. After all, Kalvin was thin and nervous and he never, never wanted to make trouble.

That was all right. Bethany had decided two years ago that she would be perfectly happy to make trouble for him. 

Rolling her shoulders to work the last of the kinks out, Bethany followed Kalvin as he scurried over to his work bench in the corner of the vast laboratory. The work bench was quite hard to see at the moment, due to the android sprawled on top of it. It had been deactivated – the panel open on its stomach was proof enough of that and, yes, the occasional sparks that were emitting from the tangle of wires and fuses inside. Kalvin pulled a pair of thick leather gloves out from where he’d tucked them into his collar and began to fussily tug them on, mumbling in distress to himself all the while. Bethany didn’t bother with such protection. She didn’t need it. 

No, she simply strode with slow, measured steps over to the motionless robot that had been made to resemble her in as many aspects as were humanly or scientifically possible. She stared down into its glassy, dead eyes, so dark without the constant glow of cameras and lights and relays. She traced a hand over its cheek with its smooth, soft false skin, molded to match her own down to the slightest curve.

She knew that Kalvin found the B-Bot incredibly unnerving. However, she had no idea why. She found it lovely, and not because it resembled her down to the fine strands of hair at the back of its neck.

She loved its insides, its bits and pieces and components and parts, all lovingly built by Kalvin to her exact specifications better than she could ever have dreamed. She loved exploring every tangle of circuits and wires and breakers and commands. The B-Bot had been created to mimic her in every way and there were days when she fancied that it was even better.

At least, it was better when it was working. 

When it wasn’t, that was where Kalvin stepped back and she took over. 

Kalvin stepped well back, before turning away to hurry off and attend to her other devices. Bethany let him scurry. She stepped forward, resting her hand on the B-Bot’s smooth shoulders. Then she let her consciousness drift blessedly free, out of her flimsy, clumsy flesh body and into the smooth, powerful, perfectly controlled form of the robot. 

The problems presented themselves immediately. All the vital switches were, indeed, tripped to the “critical” position, meant to represent some grievous injury during testing. Of course, the B-Bot wouldn’t function in such a state. What would be the point of a simulation proceeding under such conditions? It was programmed to shut down if three switches at most went off, and it had been built with ten. Even Kalvin’s most experimental experiments had never tripped all ten before. 

The result, predictably, had caused a short rather than a smooth shutdown. Some replacements of basic parts would have the robot up and running again, but that wouldn’t do any good if they couldn’t determine what had happened to cause this disaster in the first place. The matter transporter was one of the first devices Kalvin had designed for her, and seen her through many years of work. For it to suddenly start malfunctioning on a seemingly ordinary day was…unpleasant.

Then, all in a rush, Bethany wondered to herself if it was such an ordinary day. She couldn’t voice these thoughts aloud, however, not while she was drifting through the B-Bot like ants through a network of tunnels. Slowly, she pulled herself out, piece by piece, bit by bit, and byte by byte, reconstructing herself right where she’d left herself. Though she did not do so without a pang of regret.   
Fortunately, Kalvin knew better than to interrupt her during moments like these. So Bethany took her time. She took several deep breaths, flexing her fingers, rolling her eyes beneath their closed lids and running her tongue over each tooth. They were all little tests she’d developed over the course of her life, all little ways to check that everything was there again.

It was. It usually was, but it paid to be certain when so little else in life was. As soon as she felt steady enough to move, Bethany opened her eyes and did so, striding away from the robot and deeper into the lab. Kalvin followed like a nervous little puppy at her heels. 

“What did you find, Beth?”

“You’re right – it’s the vital switches. It couldn’t handle so much damage at once and they’ve all shorted out. Replace them, but don’t run any tests just yet. I have an idea what might be responsible.” 

“You do? I-I mean, of course you do! I knew you would.”

Admiration was heavy in his voice. Bethany felt a small smile tug at her as she heard it. Kalvin was so brilliant, and yet so sweet and fragile. He was like a fine sculpture spun from sugar, bringing awe to all but prone to collapse at the slightest pressure. In a way, he was just another item in her collection, one more fine piece of art she kept safe from the destruction of the outside world. 

At least he was her favorite. 

“I’m going up. Have you noticed any problems with the road?”

She looked back at him just enough to see Kalvin shake his head. “No, but, um, why would I? I never take it.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine. And we’ll soon know if it isn’t.” 

“Will you be gone long?” 

“No. Just to take a look around. I wanted to go out tonight.”

“Tonight, too? But you just went out last Sunday!” 

“And now I’m going out tonight.” However, Bethany couldn’t fail to notice that Kalvin’s natural nervousness had suddenly turned into fear at her words. “Why? Did something go wrong with repairs, too?”

This time, when she looked back it was to see Kalvin nod miserably. She hoped he knew she wasn’t angry at him. She was angry, suddenly, in a flash of heat that felt like a lance in her stomach. But it wasn’t at him. 

“Work on them some more. It might get easier while I’m up there, and I do want to go out tonight. Take advantage of the opportunity.”

“Yes, Beth.” He somehow managed to make her name sound like “miss” or “ma’am”, despite the fact that she’d been very firm with him early on that referring to her in such a formal way as that would not do. 

This short conversation had taken them to the device Bethany had been after. It was an enormous thing, taking up ten feet of wall and stretching up until it touched the high ceiling. Polished chrome formed the threshold, wires and dials and gauges and lights lined its surface, all waiting to work in perfect concert at either of their commands. Steps led up to it. When it was turned on, all she had to do was step into the light. 

The matter transporter harness had been one of the first devices Kalvin had built for Bethany. The portal she fondly dubbed the Moon Road was the very first. 

She didn’t even have to give the order, now. Like an actor hitting his mark, Kalvin went to the console set at the base of the stairs and began working his magic. With a hum that started out soft and slowly grew louder, shortly followed by a melody of clicks and pops that might seem quite alarming to anyone who didn’t know what they were doing, the Moon Road rumbled to life. Light poured like mist into the center of the threshold, pooling and filling the empty surface with something else. 

“Use the beacon if I’m not back in two hours,” said Bethany, raising her voice to be heard over the sounds coming from the machine. “I am going out tonight.” Her fists clenched at her sides at the words as she spoke them. She poured all the certainty she had into them, and Bethany was a very definite person by nature. 

“I will!” called Kalvin. “Good luck, Beth!”

Bethany nodded once. Then she stepped into the Moon Road, and flew apart. 

* * *

One day, she would own the Moon. 

She might as well have owned it already. She was the only one who came here regularly. Most days, most years, she was the only living soul. 

Even when she wasn’t, even when she had to stop and worry about astronauts poking and prodding, Bethany could keep to herself. After all, she didn’t truly exist here, not in her fleshy, organic body. Unlike when she merged with a computer, however, the Moon Road kept her information in roughly the same human shape, a ghost of Bethany Hargrove that could wander the cratered surface of the empty world alone. It was disorienting, otherwise – while it was nice to abandon her body for a network, it was far less so when she abandoned it for nothing. Even the fact that it maintained her basic shape wasn’t something that should have happened, but even Kalvin had so far been unable to explain it. She had more important things to make him explain, anyway, than some quirk of this early invention. 

The moon was a beautiful place. It was deathly silent and its unearthly landscape seemed to stretch on forever. The craters and peaks only heightened its majesty, and the lack of wind or air meant that even footprints in the sand could last eternally. 

She couldn’t leave footprints, unfortunately. Sometimes Bethany wished that she could, just to put one more mark of ownership on this great, orbiting rock. It was childish of her to wish, she knew, but that didn’t stop her. Bethany wasn’t often childish, but when it came to this place, it started with wanting to own it and went downhill from there. She’d even once asked Kalvin, as casually as she could manage, if he could think of a way for her to have some kind of physical presence on the moon. 

He’d looked at her like she was insane, of course. Bethany couldn’t blame him. After all, practical matters aside, she virtually never preferred a physical presence over an intangible one. Eventually, however, he’d stammered out a potential solution involving far too much bulky equipment. She’d turned him down – if she couldn’t walk this dusty white surface as herself, under her own power, she didn’t want to. 

At least in this intangible form, she could move a bit more quickly than she could run in her physical body. She couldn’t go as quickly as she could as pure data, of course, but at least she could communicate when she got there. So, as a ghost, Bethany flew over the dark side of the moon, rocks and craters flashing past beneath her feet. 

It wasn’t true that there was no light here. But the light wasn’t the sort that would be found on any sun or any world in this solar system. It was a cold blue light, pulsing faintly as it glowed like a beacon. Even situated in the very center of the hemisphere, there had been risks of discovery in the past because of that light. It hadn’t come yet, though. Soon it would be too late. 

The discovery that they were not only not alone, but that aliens had set themselves up as next door neighbors, would send the world at large into a fit. As such, much like where Kalvin was concerned, Bethany intended to make sure they never found out the truth. 

It didn’t take her an instant to reach the grounded ship, but it still didn’t take her much time at all. It was just as well. They knew of her presence. They knew that she’d be coming up tonight to give them what-for. Why not make them wait a little on her? It was small recompense for interfering in Kalvin’s work and throwing Bethany off schedule. So she took what she could get. 

Finally, after what must have felt like an eternity for them both but had been scant minutes crossing hundreds of miles, Bethany floated before the Eye of the Ijwa ship. The Eye was how they communicated with her, and she with them. As she waited, the shutters over the circular opening were rolled back, bathing her in a beam of the Ijwa’s harsh blue light. The connection was open, and Bethany felt them all around her, on the very edge of her consciousness. If she’d had a physical mind, they would have overwhelmed her in seconds. Insubstantiability made her safe, however, at least enough to talk.

She didn’t technically have hands or hips. Bethany imagined putting her hands on her hips anyway, and glared down into the light. 

“Cut it out. Kalvin is trying to do repairs.”

Ijwa language sounded like nothing so much as static in her head. Thanks to her abilities, however, Bethany understood it clear as English. In a lot of ways, she felt she understood it better.

“I don’t care. I have a date. Kalvin needs to make repairs for that date. It’s that simple, and you have all day to work while I have to _be_ at work. Interfering with us like this is, quite frankly, rude.”

They laughed. Bethany frowned. It was one of the most pronounced expressions she’d shown all day. 

“Laugh all you like. But I would have thought you’d want the other one tied up with me, instead of you.” 

That shut them up. She heard a muttering at the edge of her mind that she couldn’t quite hear, but only because they were making an effort to keep silent. It was the equivalent of talking behind her back, complete with giving her dirty looks as she tried to listen. It was rude, but at least it wasn’t laughter. 

Finally, after about thirty seconds of chatter – also an eternity, in this shape – she felt their presence refocus on her. She felt them apologize. It was an apology full of mockery for her and everything she stood for and everything she did, including what she did for them. It was, however, sincere in the intent behind it to back off for a little while longer. That was progress. That was all she needed right now. Bethany nodded imperiously down at them, and smiled the kind of smile that wouldn’t have reached her eyes if she’d had them. “Good. I knew we could come to an understanding if we just acted sensibly.” 

She turned and began to drift out of the beam of light. Once she left its glow, that would break the connection and hopefully leave them both to attend to their own business out of one another’s way, not bothering anyone that didn’t absolutely need to be bothered. Kalvin, for example, never needed to be bothered. 

She turned and made to drift away, but the Ijwa seemed to have other ideas. Bethany reached the edge of the column of light and met resistance. She pushed and felt the give, but it was not enough to let her pass fully through.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, making her voice as sharp as possible as she turned back to face the Eye. “I wonder, have you suddenly developed a sense of humor?” 

The chattering began again. She felt their presence drawing near again, more slowly now that she wasn’t actively accepting them into her head. There was no denying that they were drawing nearer again, however. Bethany steeled herself to push them back. Before it could come to that, however, a steely, shrill whine sounded in her mind and, because of the proximity, in theirs’. 

Two hours had passed. Kalvin was sounding the beacon. 

Bethany threw her ghostly self against the light again, and this time passed through like a hot knife through butter. Without looking back, she turned away and zoomed off. It would be easier to return if she was moving. It helped the atoms get some extra energy going. 

She left the Ijwa ship far behind, but she didn’t forget what had almost happened. Even as she felt herself start to fly apart again, Bethany made a mental note. At the very least, it seemed they needed to be reminded what was what.

All she said upon stumbling into her proper physical body and back out of the Moon Door, however, was, “Well. That was a little annoying.”

Kalvin didn’t ask. He was polite like that, and cautious anyway about the nature of the aliens high above. He merely held up for inspection the freeze ray he’d obviously been working on in the interim. Bethany took it, and turned it over and over in her hands. Without turning it on and damaging anything else, it seemed to be working. She could feel the thrum of life just beneath the surface of the weapon.

“So everything is working all right now?” 

“Yes, Beth. I’ve tidied things up a bit, too. Are you still going out?”

“Yes. I’m still going out.” She passed back the freeze ray. “Get something interesting together. I’m going to get changed.” Then she left him there to pick out her arsenal for the evening, and strode across the lab to the far end where her closet awaited. 

It was a big closet, the size of a small room. Kalvin had worked his magic here, too. The three walls facing away from the door were mirrored. So as to allow a completely unobstructed view, her clothes were actually suspended in an alcove up on the ceiling. A button and dial set next to the door let her choose, and an obliging robot arm would lower down whatever she selected. She shared the closet with Kalvin, not having very many clothes of her own, and even less that she saw the point of keeping down here. Bright, cheerful blouses and pencil skirts didn’t have much place in the lab when there was work to be done, although comfortable pants and sensible shoes made a bit more sense. 

There was one costume, however, that never left this room when she wasn’t wearing it. Bethany flipped to it and stared up at it thoughtfully for a while before hitting the button for the robot arm to lower it within reach. 

It was a dark outfit. Most of it was colored a rich, deep purple. But the gloves were black, and the boots were black. The mask was a simple black domino affair. A cape was affixed to the shoulders of the costume, perfect for billowing out dramatically behind her in the wind.

Emblazoned on the chest was a single, simple “L”. 

Legion got dressed, her image reflected on three sides. 

Rationally, there was no point in having a costume. Her biggest and greatest crimes were committed outside the physical realm, where a costume, well made as it was, would be no aid or protection. She might have worn its image up on the moon, but the Ijwa wouldn’t know they were supposed to be impressed. There was no point to having a costume, except that she was a supervillain, and supervillains always had dark, dramatic costumes. 

That was the reason. That was the only reason. Legion was a supervillain in the eyes of the world at large, thus she had a dark and dramatic costume. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it was just that, because she had a dark and dramatic costume, Legion was a supervillain. Perhaps if she could convince The Patriot to stop trying to break her nose long enough to switch outfits, she could test the theory. 

Bethany spent her mundane life dressing to fit a role. Why not her other life as well? Supervillains had dark and dramatic costumes. That was the way the world worked. She’d learned that while very young, surrounded by scattered, dog-eared comics of her own, the one serious indulgence her parents had been able to allow for her once a month. Who was she to deny such a tradition, especially when she looked so good while following it? She wanted to be a supervillain, and she wanted to be a good one, and the costume had seemed a good place to start back when she had started. 

Getting dressed always seemed to take a long time, even though Kalvin assured her it didn’t and that the costume fit perfectly. She always found she seemed to suddenly have a lot of time for silly, pointless musings while getting dressed anyway. 

The costume did fit perfectly, better than anything else she ever wore. On some nights it seemed to fit better than mere clothing should. It felt like a second skin, to the point that she sometimes didn’t remember to take it off before going to sleep unless Kalvin reminded her. It was about as well armored as possible without actually turning into a tank. That would have hampered her mobility, and mobility was what had kept The Patriot from smearing her into the pavement. 

She would be there. She always was. Bethany thought some days she should apologize for the appalling jet lag the superhero must go through to keep up with her. It was an odd thought to end her little ritual on, but that was that. Bethany pulled on the mask, and Legion looked back at her from three sides. Legion let the bright, cheerful blouse and comfortable pants fall carelessly to the floor, and stepped up to prepare for a night of crime. 

Kalvin met her outside the door, his arms laden with gadgets. Some were new and still in need of testing, testing Legion was good at providing against a persistent target. Some of it was as reliable as the sunrise. 

“Freeze ray.” 

“Spider boots.”

“Smoke bombs.”

“Giga gloves.”

“Blaster.” 

“Crier.” 

“Shields.”

“Harness.” 

She should have been laden down like a mother of three with a shopping cart, but she wasn’t The costume also provided plenty of places to hook bandoliers and belts so that the weight was distributed as evenly as possible. The twin weights of the freeze ray and the blaster on each hip was almost comforting, and Legion smiled at her scientist. “Thank you, Kalvin. Don’t forget to have some dinner while I’m gone.”

He smiled a timorous sort of smile, ducking his head and fidgeting with his glasses. “I won’t, Beth.” 

With that little goodbye between them, Legion left. She had a meeting to get to, and whether it was Legion’s face she wore or Bethany Hargrove’s, she was never, ever late.


End file.
